Survival : The Birth of a New Warrior

Prologue

LIVING WAS NEVER OUR CHOICE, so how dare it be so demanding? We never wished to be born so why is it handling us different types of problems with only ourselves to blame?

Living was never our choice. Surviving is. We chose to survive because of different personal reasons. Those reasons made living beautiful.

But my life is different. I strive to survive because I am made to. I am an invincible killing machine designated to eliminate any potential predator. Simply because being a prey is a certificate of weakness. And I am not weak; I never am.

And I'm willing to prove that to everybody.

I grip my dagger and pull it closer to the guy's throat while my left hand is holding his wrist to prevent any unnecessary actions from him. The sharp silver blade is touching his skin coldly with every second of it getting deeper.

"Admit your treason." I say in monotone. Not showing any single trace of emotion like I've been taught.

Tears start falling from his eyes involuntarily while his whole body is trembling in fear.

"I'm sorry, I sincerely ask for your forgiveness!" His knees lost the strength to stand, causing it to fall on the ground while my eyes are just staring at him without any single remorse.

I don't understand them. I never understood the complexity of humanity. Committing crimes and asking for forgiveness with tears in their eyes. It's just like killing someone and asking the corpse to understand you.

It's too complicated, and somehow impossible to comprehend.

But what I am more confused of, is his tears, an unnecessary action that would lead anyone to nowhere. I am a predator and he's making himself an easier prey by showing his weakness. One of the types of people who are not capable of surviving.

I grab his long, shabby hair and looked at his deep-set eyes without anything in my mind but the mission tasked to me. Fear paints his face as he stares at me with terror.

"I never asked for your forgiveness." I said while preventing him from looking away by gripping his hair tightly and pointing my dagger to his jaw. "I told you . . . to admit your treason."

"I-I just did it for my family, I swear! My son . . . he's dying of starvation, I . . . it's just a piece of bread and . . . and a jar of water!"

I squinted and quickly ran the blades from his jaw down to his chest, without hitting his vital points, but making sure he's threatened. The injury caused his blood to scatter on his roughed up skin.

His scream echoed inside the bar where the people were once laughing.

Blood splattered from the wooden ground as he groan helplessly. No one can help him. Simply because they are aware that it will just be useless.

"I told you to admit your treason. Tell me, what are you?" I say once again.

Despite his shaking voice, and his teary eyes, he gets up slowly as he gives me a begging look. "I . . . am a . . . thief. And my treason . . . is theft."

After he said that, I heard a gunshot. And right after I blink, blood starts gushing from the hole in his forehead. His teary eyes turned blank along with his expression. His shaking stops and his body just drops itself on the floor.

I can hear the staff gasping while some of them are covering their eyes based on my peripheral vision.

This is nothing new. Me being tasked to make citizens confess their treason, torturing them before they're executed in public.

The executor, the one in front of me, is the son of the chief.

"Well done, Vi!" He says and smirks. He offers his trembling hand and I just look at him before walking past the corpse.

As I was about to step on his body, I stare at him once more. Another guy in tears because of something wrong he did. A human who took the risk without knowing how bad the consequences would be. Pitiful, I must say.

I pull my foot back and walk the other way. He's already been through enough. A prey being trampled is not a noble thing for a predator. Especially when he willingly died. I can't just bring myself to step on a corpse. It just feels so . . . wrong.

"Aww . . . afraid to walk on a corpse?" He asks tauntingly as he puts his hands on his nape right after bringing the gun back to his pocket.

"Just don't want to walk straight to you." I answered truthfully as begin sheathing my dagger.

"Little Vi and her excuses." He says playfully as he plays with his finger. His fidgeting moves are somehow distracting but I just don't mind it. It'll just make things worse if I interfere.

"They're not. Let's go and report this." I say as I walk quicker, some of my weapons dangling from my loose belt.

He rolls his eyes

"You should at least joke back." He says while rubbing his hands abruptly.

"Those are waste of time." I answer as I stare at my belt, noticing that it's falling from my waist now. I guess I'm getting too skinny because of continuous missions from other villages, most of it being execution. I can't find the time to eat sometimes since my schedule is filled with trainings and I don't want to miss any of it. I need to be a more capable assassin each day. And by any chance, I might be an official executor, which might help in resolving the crime problems here in Sevara Village.

Nothing new, but still somehow annoying. We all want to survive but others are doing things that will surely kill them. The irony.

He gave me an annoyed look and put his hands in his pocket. He, despite being the chief's son, is not that good of an executor. As I've observed since the two of us became partners is that whenever he executes, his hands starts to shake unless his mind is pre-occupied.

He always regrets executing despite looking like that. Unlike me, he's afraid of killing but kept doing it anyways. His reason still isn't clear, but if I were to guess, I think it's because of his father. Their clan can never afford a weak hearted heir. He's just living up to their expectations.

They left him no choice.

Just like everyone else, we're all stuck in the idea of something. It cages us until we can no longer find any way out. Causing internal suffocation and probably, the death of our souls or most of the time, its sudden disappearance. Therefore, forgetting who we really are. Most people call it existential crisis.

But in my case, I am stuck with my monotonous state. A human shell with a soul of a weapon. I think of emotions as something insignificant. But deep down, there's a little voice shouting, telling me inaudible words but somehow quite understandable. It's a curious voice wanting me to know things that are unnecessary. And one of it, is emotion.

But I know, I would never have the chance to know. Because I only have a single option to live with a purpose.

Just like Damon, I am left with no choice. No other choice but to survive.